


and this will be our year (took a long time to come)

by goodandsafe



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, alcoholic!Alex, sanvers mention - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodandsafe/pseuds/goodandsafe
Summary: alex has spent a decade hiding a truth that she hoped never to own up to; the universe has other plans.a story of recovery.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> alex has always read as an alcoholic (or having alcoholic tendencies, at the very least) to me, so this fic has been a long time coming.

 

> 1\. The first time the thought itches at her brain, she’s a junior in high school and her mom is chewing her out for a beach party gone sour.

“I just don’t understand; you’re smarter than this,” Eliza says, throwing her hands in the air as she paces back and forth in front of the couch.

Alex _knows_ that. She _knows_ how smart she is and it might even be a source of pride for her if anyone would let her forget it once and a while.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Alexandra Danvers,” her mother says. “Your father and I raised you better than this.”

Bile threatens to rise up from Alex’s stomach but instead she spits out, “Yeah, well my dad’s dead, so I guess I only have to worry about disappointing _one_ parent.”

The look on her mom’s face — an expression of utter surprise and pain — is too much for Alex to bear, so she pushes up from the couch and storms up to her room. Kara is already there, sitting cross-legged on Alex’s bed.

“Let me guess, you heard everything,” Alex grumbles.

Kara cringes, shrugs, and says, “I can’t help it sometimes. I’m trying.”

Alex softens. “I know. Sorry. It’s just — I have a raging headache, I’ve puked four times since I woke up, and now mom is guilt-tripping me over something every high-schooler does!”

“I don’t,” Kara says, matter-of-factly.

“You’re an alien.”

Alex turns her back to her sister in favor of her closet. She doesn’t remember going into the water but she must have because her jeans are still damp from the knees down and peeling them off makes some sand that had been stuck to her shins falls to the top of her feet and onto carpet around her. She bends and brushes the remainder of the sand from her legs, willing the motion to take with it this creeping sense of melancholy that’s settled in her chest.

[It doesn’t.]

Kara chooses that moment to ask, “Did everyone else get alcohol poisoning too?”

The melancholy and something else she can’t quite name further solidify inside of Alex and with it, her defenses bolster.

“It was a miscalculation, Kara. Nothing more.”

“Okay,” Kara says, her voice laced with hesitation. There are a few beats of silence and then Kara continues, “Just… be careful, okay?”

“Sure. Whatever. I need a shower and a nap.”

Alex hears Kara slide off her bed, quietly, as if Kara is trying to sneak around an angry lioness. Or maybe she’s trying not to scare off a skittish doe. Alex isn’t sure. When the bedroom door clicks shut, Alex heaves a sigh and pushes her closet door closed. She stands in front of the mirror, appraising herself.

The dark circles under her eyes are prominent but it’s the way that her eyes themselves appear devoid of any emotion that shakes Alex.

/

When she returns from her shower, towel pulled tight around her small frame, Alex is greeted by the sight of Kara’s favorite Beanie-Baby, Mr. Bat, sitting in the center of her bed, facing the door from which Alex came.

Alex is able to smile a little, even with the gravity of shame working to hold down the corners of her mouth. After shedding her towel and pulling on a tank top and a pair of shorts, Alex scoops up the bat and clutches it to her chest before pulling back her covers with her free hand and sliding into her bed.

She dips her head to one of the bat’s long ears and whispers, “Every high-schooler does it. Right?”  
The silence with which she’s left only brings doubt.

/

[It hadn’t been Alex’s first Saturday night blowout at the beach, but guilt makes it her last one (...for the next month, at least).]

* * *

 

>  2. Sometimes, far before she’s able to say it out loud, science gets under Alex’s skin. 

Alex thought that orientation weekend at Stanford was going to be exciting. And it _was_ , until the alcohol awareness lecture the entire freshman class was forced to sit through at 8:00am on the Sunday before their first day of classes. They all watched an hour-long educational video on the dangers associated with underage drinking and how to stay safe, some upperclassmen did a handful of skits that Alex thinks was meant to be funny, and now one of the psychologists from the campus’ counseling center is standing on the stage of the theatre addressing them all.

“The CRAFFT is a research-backed brief screening tool that we use for adolescents and young adults under the age of twenty-one to help us identify problem drinking and to open a more in-depth discussion with an individual. In addition, this screener can be performed by a professional, like myself, or by your average citizen, which makes it especially handy. Has anyone heard of the CRAFFT before?”

The theatre remains silent, but for various whispers between hungover coeds and some shuffling feet.

“That’s okay; I’m here to spell it all out for you. Literally.”

The psychologist, a middle-aged, dark-haired woman, turns and points a small remote at the pop-up screen that sits a few yards away from her. The first slide, which had listed the campus policies regarding drinking in large, red letters disappears and is quickly replaced by one with the heading “CRAFFT Screener” in softer, periwinkle letters.

“To begin with, there are three opening questions.” As she says this, a text box appears on the screen, which reads:

 

> In the last twelve months have you:
> 
>   1. Drank any alcohol?
>   2. Smoked marijuana?
>   3. Used anything else to get high?
> 


Alex’s stomach drops and a cool sweat breaks out on her hands and the back of her neck.

“If the individual being screened answers ‘yes’ to any of these questions, we move deeper into the full CRAFFT tool itself, and even if the answer to all three of these questions is ‘no,’ we still move to the first question of the CRAFFT, but that’s where that person’s screening ends.

“Now, CRAFFT is a mnemonic acronym of first letters of key words in the six screening questions in the tool. The first,” she says, and a bulletted list appears on the slide, “is C, for CAR, and the associated question is, ‘Have you ever ridden in a car driven by someone (including yourself) who was high or had been using alcohol or drugs?’

Alex feels panic spike inside her and she feels like she’s underwater, like there’s pressure pushing at her chest, in her ears. The psychologist keeps talking, but Alex can’t hear her — she can’t hear _anything_ anymore — but she reads along as the slide progresses. She reads it over and over as the psychologist sets down her remote and students raise their hands. The questions, for that space of time, get seared into Alex’s consciousness.

 

> R - Do you ever use alcohol or drugs to RELAX, feel better about yourself, or fit in?
> 
> A - Do you ever use alcohol/drugs while you are ALONE?
> 
> F - Do you ever FORGET things you did while using alcohol or drugs?
> 
> F - Does/Do your FAMILY or FRIENDS ever tell you that you should cut down on your drinking or drug use?
> 
> T - Have you gotten into TROUBLE while you were using alcohol or drugs?

A lump starts to form in Alex’s throat and she furrows her brow, counting the six questions, counting the time she thinks _yes_ , and then recounting.

“That’s bullshit,” the girl next to Alex says, scoffing and breaking Alex out of her stupor. “Every college kid gets fucked up. It’s, like, a rite of passage.”

Alex breathes out a laugh and says, “Yeah, totally.”

“I’m not here to accuse any of you of problem drinking, but these key words are something to keep in mind,” the woman on stage says.

Alex forces a smile to her lips as the girl beside her begins to whisper over the psychologist’s speech and Alex pretends that the yeses she just ticked off aren’t carving their way into her skull.

* * *

 

>  3. Alex nearly accepts the idea after she lands herself in the drunk tank… again.

It was supposed to just be another night out. Another night wasted, in every sense of the word, but Alex can’t help but push it just too far. She’d spent the night taking shots and dancing with a guy whose name she already forgets when he’d leaned in to kiss her. Alex had jerked her head away from him and come up with an excuse.

“ _I just remembered_ ,” she’d slurred. “ _I have a — uh — a work thing in the morning. I better go._ ”

Then she wove her way through the crowd to the far end of the bar, ordered two more shots for herself (which she quickly downed), and stumbled outside, where she stands now.

She’s pretty sure she should be shaking from the cold, but the combination of the alcohol, the energy exerted from dancing, and the uncomfortable, utterly unpleasant flush she feels where whats-his-name’s lips had landed all have her feeling overheated. Alex looks at the street around her and where there are usually cabs swarming the area, there are currently none. She pulls out her phone.

1:23am, Tuesday, March 23, 2012.

 _Tuesday_ , she thinks, blowing out a breath that the cool air makes visible before her. Just then, a chill hits her and Alex forgoes calling or waiting for a cab to find her car. Alex is sure it’s around here somewhere and she’s confident she can get herself home _far_ quicker than a cab ever could.

She walks, sight blurry and steps uncertain, through the streets for ten minutes until she makes it to her car. Alex fishes her hand through her purse until she finds her keys. She pulls them out, triumphant, only to stumble over her own feet and drop them a few feet away. Just as Alex bends to reach for her keys, the familiar flash of red and blue lights illuminate her silver car. Her fingers wrap around the cool metal of her keys and when she stands up, straight as she can, the officer is already out of his squad car and approaching her.

Alex squints to put the man’s face into better view but before she’s fully able to, a familiar voice says with a hint of disappointment, “Miss Danvers, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from your vehicle.”

/

 _What am I doing?_ Alex thinks to herself, head in her hands and back against the bars that hold her in place. Her mind is starting to clear up and the guilt and shame, as always, begin to take up the space previously occupied by the soft, numb cloud of alcohol. _Why am I like thi_ —

Just as the thought knocks at the base of Alex’s brain, the door behind her swings open, then shut, and then steady steps are approaching her.

“Alex Danvers,” a deep, gravelly voice says, closer than Alex had anticipated.

“I didn’t ask to talk to a lawyer.”

Alex hears the speaker grunt as he lowers himself to the bench on the opposite side of the bars.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a lawyer,” he says, and Alex can tell that he’s facing her still.

“What are you, a priest, then?” Alex asks. Which, if he is, aren’t confessions supposed to be given in a dark reconciliation room, divided by wood slats? “You’re wasting your time. I’m not exactly a prime candidate for jailhouse conversion.”

“Well I wouldn’t think so. Scientists are generally skeptics. Not that you’re much of a scientist these days. That is, if your latest transcripts are any indication.”

“How do you know about that?” Alex asks, picking her head up and turning her head to the side.

“Oh, I know a lot about you Alex,” and something tickles at the back of Alex’s mind, like she’s forgetting something. “I know about your house in Midvale, where every night you’d watch the stars from your roof. I know how you got that scar on your arm. And I know about your sister.”

Alex pushes herself to her feet, now fully on the defensive. On the other side of the bars stands a black man in a suit, who also rises to his feet.

“What about my sister?”

Her voice is colder now, and the man almost looks proud of her sudden ferocity.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Someone comes into your life with these extraordinary powers and you feel like you can never measure up. Like there’s nothing special about you. Well, you _are_ special, Alex,” the man says, gaze level with Alex’s. “And you can’t afford to throw your life down the drain. You owe that to yourself.”

There’s a pregnant, heavy pause.

“And your father.”

Alex’s eyes widen just the slightest bit.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“My name is Hank Henshaw. I work for a government organization dedicated to defending this planet, and we need you, Alex. We need you to be the person I _know_ you can be.”

Hank’s face is so honest that Alex feels slightly more balanced than she had before he walked in and any thoughts she’d had prior to meeting Hank flit away as quickly as the alcohol had disappeared from her shot glasses. After a long moment, she nods at him.

“What do I need to do?” Alex asks.

 _Maybe all this pain wasn’t for nothing_ , she thinks as Hank motions for an officer to open Alex’s cell.

* * *

 

>  4. The thought flits away like a bird on the wind for a time and denial takes its place. 

Alex settles in at the D.E.O. quickly and for the first time in _years_ , she feels like she has a real purpose. A calling. Sure, she has a part of her life that she has to hide from her family, but she always has; at least this is one that brings her pride, right? Plus, the new family she finds at the D.E.O. is badass and welcoming and steady and Alex gains a father figure in Hank. She smiles more and life is… it’s _good_.

/

But then her plane almost crashes, Kara reveals herself as Supergirl, and the ground beneath Alex’s feet feels dangerously unstable. After storming out of Kara’s apartment, she finds herself at an old haunt with some coworkers. They’ve taken over the back corner of the bar and she’s lost count of how many beers she’s had, but she feels light and _happy_. It’s nearing midnight and some of her friends have filtered out of the tavern, but Vasquez stays and keeps Alex company.

“I just don’t see why Kara doesn’t understand how _dangerous_ this is. We’ve worked for _ever_ for her to have a normal human life, and she’s putting it all at risk!”

“Come on, Alex. Are you telling me that if you had powers, you wouldn’t use them _all the time_?”

“Well that’s not — I don’t, so it doesn’t matter,” Alex grumbles.

“Whatever you say.”

Alex pushes herself to her feet, tossing a, “Be right back,” at Vasquez and heading for the bartender. As she moves toward it, Alex sways; it surprises her, but she stays upright. She reaches the high-top counter and pulls a twenty-dollar bill out of her pocket, which, paired with the late hour, helps her swiftly grab the bartender’s attention.

He makes his way from the other end of the bar, tossing a rag beside a register. A charming smile spreads across his face as he stands across from Alex and she slaps the twenty down on the counter.

“’Nother round for me and my frien’ over there,” Alex says, slurring slightly and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder in Vasquez’s direction.

The bartender looks her up and down, smile falling slightly, before he says, “Maybe you oughta slow down there, Danvers. Seems like you’ve had enough.”

Alex’s eyes narrow on instinct and she collects herself before repeating her order. She gets an extra shot for herself, just to prove that she’s just fine, thank you very much.

* * *

 

> 5\. Ten years after the thought first creeped into her mind and in the same exact spot, Alex almost accepts it, lets it slip out.

“See you around, Danvers.”

The sentence, however brief, packs a punch. Alex flashes back to the first time she met Maggie — when the woman’s voice said those same words, only then they cloaked with sarcasm and bravado — until the door clicks shut behind her girlfr—.

Silence settles and Alex falls apart. _Again_. She feels like she’s been on this never-ending rollercoaster ride from Hell for the last few years but she never — _never_ — expected to lose Maggie this way. Alex has gained and lost plenty of homes over the years, but this one, this loss, pushes her over the edge.

Before she knows it, she’s pulling a bottle of vodka from her freezer, forgoing a glass entirely. She can’t stand the idea of crawling back into her bed, whose sheets still smell like sex and sweat and _Maggie_ , so she sits on the floor in front of her couch and she cries between long pulls from her bottle.

After three full days of this, Kara stops playing nice. She stops calling and texting and talking at Alex through the door and floats in through a window Alex leaves unlocked. Kara lands, just loudly enough to alert Alex of her presence, and looks about the room. The anger and annoyance that had been festering within Kara immediately disappates upon seeing the state of her sister’s apartment, the state of Alex herself.

A wardrobe has been pushed so that it hides the sight of Alex’s bed and Kara can see broken shards of glass littered around the entire apartment. In the sink, dishes are stacked high and take-out boxes sit on countertops, forgotten. Empty bottles and clothes are strewn about and a smell that can only be described as stale assaults Kara’s senses. Alex is sat in the middle of the floor, a blanket pulled tight around her shoulders and a bottle in her hand. Her cheeks are red and puffy and her hair looks greasy and unkempt.

Kara’s heart breaks.

“Alex?” she says tentatively.

Her sister, who’s given no indication that she’s heard the younger Danvers woman enter, says nothing. Instead, she lifts the bottle up to her lips and tips her head back, taking a long drink. Afterward, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and rests her head back against the couch, uncapped bottle cradled against her chest.

Kara moves closer to Alex, into her line of sight, and sits opposite her. The sharp stench of alcohol is coming off of Alex in waves and Kara wrinkles her nose.

“What can I do to help you right now?” Kara asks.

A few beats of silence.

“Leave,” Alex says. Her voice is rough, crackling, and Kara suspects she hasn’t spoken since Maggie left.

“Alex, I’m so, _so_ sorry this happened, but you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Alex lifts her bottle, as if raising it in cheers, before taking another pull from it and saying, “I’m not.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Kara says, keeping her voice as soft and unthreatening as she can. “I… I think we should get out of National City for a little while. Go home. _Home_ home. To Midvale.”

“To remind me of what else I’ve lost? Genius,” Alex scoffs. “Why don’t you just go, Kara? Everyone does, eventually. _God,_ that’s so —”

Her voice falters on the last word and she tries to mask it by taking another swig from her bottle but it’s half-hearted and Kara begins to see her sister — the _real_ Alex — bursting through the cracks in her defensive exterior.

“ _Alex_ ,” Kara says, scooting closer to her sister. She’s close enough now to nudge Alex’s knees with her own and after the motion, Alex finally looks at Kara.

“I just love her,” Alex gasps out, “ _so much_.”

In a flash, Kara has pulled the nearly-empty bottle from Alex’s hand, set it on the table, and pulled her sister into her. The fight drains from Alex and she leans into Kara, crying — fully, loudly, drunkenly — until she wipes herself out and dozes off in her sister’s lap.

/

Less than twenty-four hours later, Alex is in the passenger seat of J’onn’s Chevy Deluxe, heading West to Midvale with her sister. The top is down, but the music is off and neither woman is speaking; both are too lost in their own thoughts and, frankly, Alex is too frustrated with herself, with her sister, with her situation to have the energy to speak anyway.

/

After hugging her mother hello, Alex shuts herself in her room upstairs. She brings her two suitcases up to the room she and Kara shared as kids and drops them beside her bed with a huff. The bottles she’d wrapped in sweatpants apparently hadn’t stayed that way through the trip because the glass clinks together.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Alex hisses, hoping that Kara’s super-hearing hadn’t picked up the sound.

She freezes in place, hoping that if she doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, that she’ll remain on this floor of the Danvers house alone. The muffled hums of her mother and sister’s voices continue downstairs and Alex almost feels disappointed, but mostly relieved. She zips open one of the bags and reaches for her Stanford sweatpants, which are wrapped around a handle of whiskey. Alex shimmies out of her jeans, pulls on the sweatpants, and grabs a glass from the bathroom before settling onto her bed and pouring herself a generous helping of whiskey.

/

[She’d call it A Drink, but in reality, it’s closer to four.]

/

“What's the point of all this?” Alex asks.

Kara has finally ventured into their room since they arrived and she looks as worn out as Alex feels.

“I dunno,” Kara shrugs. “We need to sleep. We always slept well here.”

“So we'll stay for, like, three days, Mom will cook tons of food, I'll gain five pounds, and then walk back into an empty apartment.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Kara asks, broaching the subject for the first time since leaving National City.

“You don't get to do that.”

“What?”

“You don't get to shut down for, what, six months after Mon-El goes, and then sit here and tell me to talk.”

“It _will_ get better,” Kara says, as earnestly as she can manage.

“Yeah? Are you better?” Alex snaps.

“Okay,” Kara says, shaking her head and turning her back to Alex. “You are edging on mean drunk, and I only signed up for sad drunk.”

Alex’s first instinct is to deny that she’s drunk — that she’s even been drinking — and that’s when the thought gains wings once more.

“ _I need help_ ,” Alex wants to whisper into the darkness.

Instead, she turns over in bed, back to her sister, and drowns the unspoken words with another mouthful of whiskey.

* * *

 

> 6\. Alex is four whiskeys deep on a Wednesday night when the thought is finally — _finally_ — too sharp to ignore. 

It’s become a mid-week custom at the Arias house; Sam works late, so Alex keeps Ruby company. The preteen had vehemently rejected the idea that she needs a _babysitter_ any longer, but conceded to hanging out with Alex when her mom gets stuck at the office. It’s a nice routine; Alex picks Ruby up from school, they grab a pizza, and they laze around for a few hours while Sam catches up on paperwork. It’s good all around.

[Sam especially likes coming home to her daughter and her girlfriend asleep on the couch.]

Usually it’s peaceful, but tonight Alex is buzzing.

It’s a feeling only liquor can quell — it’s — _she’s_ made of electricity. Each and every day this current runs through her bloodstream, through her each muscle and tendon, and it doesn’t settle, doesn’t let her rest until a bottle hits her lips, until the liquid drops into her stomach.

[Alex can’t remember the last time she didn’t pick up when liquor called out for her.]

Especially now, as she sits at the dining room table poring over case files she can’t seem to wrap her head around. She has all the pieces — she _knows_ she does — but she can’t put them together properly. Alex drops the papers in her hands onto the pile in front of her and pushes them all away from her. She needs a break.

Alex looks over to Ruby, who’s sitting kitty-corner to her working on a book report for school, flipping through pages, brow creased in concentration. Alex picks up her glass, swirling the melting ice and pushing her chair away from the table. She places her plate atop Ruby’s empty one and tosses out her own barely-eaten slice of pizza before washing each dish.

Her glass, slick with condensation, sits just inside her periphery and when her hands are dry, she scoops it up and retrieves the bottle of whiskey she keeps at Sam’s.

She’s halfway through her pour when Ruby says, seemingly absentmindedly, “Alex, haven’t you had enough tonight?”

Ruby’s voice is soft. Innocent. Lilting, even. But the question is so blunt — so… _unnerving_ — and it hits Alex so squarely in the chest that she has to set the bottle down and brace herself against the counter with both hands.

“ _She sees_ ,” Alex thinks. “ _Ruby_ sees _me_.”

Alex would almost feel relieved to be seen if those words didn’t cut so deeply and instill so much panic and shame. She’s gotten so accustomed to hiding from her loved ones in plain sight that Ruby’s comment sucks the air from Alex’s lungs and Ruby doesn’t even realize it; she just continues marking pages in her book. Alex caps the Jack Daniels and swallows hard, willing tears away.

“ _Not now_ ,” she thinks to herself. “ _Not now_.”

Alex turns to the sink and sets her glass into it, amber liquid cracking the few ice cubes that remain. She wishes she could just overturn the damn glass, empty it, and watch the liquid circle the drain, but she can’t. She can’t.

So instead, Alex plasters on a smile that must look as unnatural as it feels and says, “You’re right. You up for an ice cream sundae?”

As Alex had hoped, Ruby’s face lights up and they set to building both of them the perfect sundae. When they’re ready, Ruby picks a movie and the two of them settle onto the couch, pizza and homework and alcohol forgotten. For Ruby, at least.

Alex, on the other hand, doesn’t comprehend anything that happens in the movie. How could she, with the echoes of “haven’t you had enough?” bouncing around in her brain?

She hears it in Ruby’s voice. In Kara’s and in Maggie’s. In J’onn’s and in her mother’s. In bartenders’ and party-goers’ and nurses’. The wording varies in each echo, but it all boils down to the very same thing: Enough.

But is it enough? _Has_ she had enough? Is _she_ enough without it? Has she ever been? Could she live without it? Could she live without the feeling of a fiery river of whiskey or vodka or whatever’s available tearing a path from her lips to her stomach? The stillness it brings her once it settles within her? The dreamless sleep it shuffles her toward? The numbness — the pro _tection_ — it brings?

Alex hears her own quiet voice protesting and denying the echoes and assertions of her loved ones until their voices and her own are drowned out by the voice that’s been trying to be heard since she was fifteen.

Alex imagines the final ice cube melting away and its chill flushes through her. It tingles up her spine and whispers, “You can’t do this anymore.”

A soft and clumsy thumb on her cheek shakes Alex from her rumination.

She hadn’t realized it, but she’s started to cry and Ruby, oblivious to Alex’s current plight, jests, “Wow, Alex. I never knew Krispy Kreme meant so much to you.”

Alex tries to laugh but it’s weak with sadness. She wipes at a leftover tear and says, “I knew Rita was cruel, but destroying a donut shop is just uncalled for.”

Ruby manages to keep Alex focused for the rest of the movie but as soon as the girl is upstairs and in bed for the night, Alex is on her feet, pacing in the living room, and trying to keep her breathing even.

She manages to do so until she hears the front door swing open, which is immediately followed by the sound of heels clicking toward her in the front hall. Alex turns to face the sound just in time to see Sam reach the doorway. Her girlfriend’s wide smile drops into something more like concern and before Sam can even get out “What’s wrong?” Alex is waving her off.

“Alex,” Sam says, and the moment she moves toward her, Alex’s face crumples and she chokes out a whimper.

Then Sam is there, pulling Alex into her, holding her together. Time seems to fall away and the only thing Alex registers is Sam’s strong hold on her and the steady beat of her heart beneath Alex’s ear.

Finally, Alex tries to get some words out and both Sam and her quiet home seem to wait, to listen.

“I — I nee—” she manages to get out before another sharp, painful sob rips through her.

Sam’s hands move from each of their places on Alex’s waist and in her hair to Alex’s cheeks. She coaxes her girlfriend upright just enough to look her in the eye, wiping the tears and snot from Alex’s face with her thumbs.

“Tell me what you need, Al,” Sam says gently, “and I’ll do it.”

Alex hiccups and says, “I need help.”

With those three words, the last shard of Alex’s defenses shatter apart, fall away from her, and the world doesn’t end. Alex cries for another hour and instead of the ground swallowing her whole, gravity holds her fast. When Alex can breathe again, she tells Sam everything — her whole truth — and Sam doesn’t turn away in anger or disgust; she tells Alex, “you are _loved_.”


	2. i'll kiss you again, between the bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is anyone here for the first time?” asks the man perched on the windowsill. 
> 
> Alex is sitting in a small conference room within a church around the corner from her apartment and she can’t remember the last time she was so anxious. Sam had offered to come in with her, but Alex had declined; she had to do this part on her own. Alex had walked into the room exactly fifteen minutes early and had taken the first seat on which her eyes fell. There are tables pushed into a large square and black plastic chairs line both the table and the room’s outer wall. On the table in front of her sat a laminated, parchment-colored piece of paper that, in large, red calligraphy, reads, “Keep It Simple.”
> 
> [alex's first day of sobriety: love and AA]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i Did Not proofread this at all, so

After she pours her heart and soul and shame out to Sam, Alex falls into a fitful sleep, curled atop her girlfriend’s body.

Sam, for her part, doesn’t sleep much that night. She just holds onto Alex, anchored to Earth by the comforting weight of her, and stares up at the ceiling, turning over in her mind everything Alex told her. Sam thinks back over all the time she’s spent with Alex. She doesn’t know if she should or not but, somehow, Sam feels responsible, like there must have been signs that she missed, and guilt washes over her. What’s more is that Sam knows that if Alex knew Sam was feeling that way, she’d forget herself in an instant and do everything in her power to ease Sam’s worrying. Alex is like that, always putting other people first, and that immense ability to care and to give is part of what attracted Sam to her to begin with.

From the first time Sam met Alex, there was something, just, _magnetic_ about the woman. Truthfully, she’d fallen for her right from the start, but Alex was with Maggie, and in Sam’s mind, it was never going to happen. Even after Alex’s engagement fell apart, Sam didn’t have any hopes; she just knew that she wanted to be around Alex, be close to her, be her friend, at least.

The first time Alex kissed her, they were sat next to each other on Alex’s couch, the only two remaining from what was a pal’s night with Kara, Lena, and Winn. They’d been growing closer and that night, every touch, every glance, every smile came to a head. Kara and Lena had noticed the way the two women physically drew closer to one another that night and shuffled Winn out of Alex’s apartment, with half-assed excuses that Alex and Sam didn’t really hear anyway. Alex and Sam sat, talking and laughing and further building the tension between them, wine from hours ago forgotten on the table before them.

Moonlight had shone through the window, Sam had whispered, “You’re beautiful,” and Alex had surged forward to kiss her.

That first kiss broke the dam and they’ve spent every day since growing together. Sam expects this is a test of that; it’s Alex’s fight, yes, but she won’t let Alex fight it alone.

/

When the sky begins to brighten, Alex whimpers then in her sleep and fidgets on top of Sam, as if fighting some kind of invisible force, even as she rests.

She is, Sam remembers.

Alex’s legs shift restlessly and Sam gently weaves her fingers into Alex’s hair, scratches at the nape of her neck. Alex’s movements slow and smooth out but she still wakes, lifting her head from where it was burrowed into Sam’s neck. Sam shifts her gaze to Alex, who’s looking blearily at her, brow furrowed. Sam moves her hand and Alex’s hair falls in front of her face before Sam tucks it behind her ear.

“’s it mornin’?” Alex asks, leaning into Sam’s palm.

“Almost, baby. Almost.”

/

Sam carries Alex upstairs to the bedroom before calling both herself and Alex out of work. Alex starts to protest but relents after Sam insists, promises she’ll join her just as soon as she gets Ruby to school, and seals it with a kiss.

Alex falls back asleep, tucked beneath Sam’s down comforter, before Sam makes it back down the stairs to start making breakfast for her daughter.

/

Ruby joins her in the kitchen earlier than usual and hugs her, long and tight.

“We missed you last night,” Ruby says.

“I missed _you_ ,” Sam says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ruby’s head. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you when I got home to say goodnight.”

Ruby shakes her head against Sam.

“It’s okay. Alex needed you,” she says, before stepping back from her mom.

“Was she… did something happen last night?”

“Not really. Just — she seemed upset, and Alex never really seems upset. I, um, heard her crying. After you got back. Is she okay?”

Sam lets out a sharp breath through her nose. This is Alex’s story to tell, but this is _Ruby_ and Sam won’t lie to her.

“She will be, with some help, but I want us to talk about it all together.”

“As a family,” Ruby says, nodding in understanding.

A lump forms in Sam’s throat and she doesn’t trust herself to speak so she pulls Ruby in for another, even tighter hug.

/

When Sam gets back from dropping off Ruby at school, she parks her car in the driveway and just sits for a moment. She’s never dealt with this — with alcoholism — before and she doesn’t want to screw it up. She vows to do some research and as she’s about to open her car door, her phone vibrates in her pocket.

Kara.

The text reads, “is alex ok? she’s not answering her phone :(”

 _Fuck_.

“She’s sleeping in,” Sam types out. “Didn’t sleep much last night”

In less than fifteen seconds, another message from Kara comes in.

“ew,” is all it says. Then, another. “thx :)”

Sam heads inside, switches her phone to silent, and locks the door before padding quietly upstairs. It turns out the sneaking was for naught, because when she enters her bedroom, Alex is awake, lying on her back and staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her hands are resting on her stomach, tapping an uneven pattern on the blanket that’s draped over her.

She doesn’t look at Sam, but she says, “Hi.”

Alex’s voice is small — _scared,_ almost — and Sam’s chest clenches.

Sam gracelessly kicks off her jeans and slides into bed beside Alex, lying on her side, propping herself up with her left arm. Gently, she takes Alex’s tap-tap-tapping left hand into her right one, weaves their fingers together, and Alex pushes out a shaky breath.

“Last night really happened, huh?” Alex asks, finally looking at Sam.

In her eyes, Sam sees something she’s not accustomed to with Alex: genuine fear.

She squeezes Alex’s hand and nods. “Thank you for telling me all of that.”

A pause, and then she continues, “I’m _so_ sorry I never — that I didn’t —”

“No,” Alex cuts her off. “No, don’t you —”

She breathes in sharply and the sound makes Sam’s throat tighten again.

Alex continues, “ _I’m_ sorry. I never wanted to put you in this position.”

Her voice breaks and she covers her eyes with her free hand. Sam feels the muscles beneath her hand contract and realizes Alex is crying again, silent now.

“ _Al_ ex,” Sam says, releasing Alex’s left hand to try and coax her right one away from her face. Alex doesn’t put up much of a fight, but she does look away, avoiding eye contact. Sam’s hand falls on Alex’s cheek and she gently turns Alex back toward her. She says, “I am _with you_ , Alex. No matter what, and whatever you need.”

“I don’t” — a sob — “even _know_ what I need!”

Sam swipes tears away with her thumb.

“So we figure it out together.”

Alex takes a stuttered breath and holds onto Sam’s forearm with both of her hands.

“Yeah?” she asks.

Sam’s heart breaks at her uncertainty. She pushes herself closer to Alex, dips her head, and leans her forehead against Alex’s, keeping her eyes locked, as well as she can, on her girlfriend’s.

“Always.”

Alex closes the space between them and kisses Sam deeply, pouring her thanks into it.

/

Because Sam is, well, _Sam_ , she decides they need a plan of attack. Alex watches her flit about, gathering notebooks and markers before joining her back in bed, and is endeared beyond words. She still feels humiliated and guilty and _sad_ , but it’s nearly eclipsed by care with which Sam is treating her.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Alex admits. “I just — I want it to stop having this… _hold_ on me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asks and Alex nods. “How have you done this for so long alone?”

“I don’t — I had to,” Alex shrugs, picking at her cuticles. “Or — I don’t know. I can’t explain it the way I want to. Asking for help meant saying it out loud, and saying it out loud meant admitting it. I’ve been trying to avoid admitting it since I was, I don’t know, sixteen.”

Sam takes a moment to think and then says, “I wish it wasn’t this way for you, but I’m proud of you for saying it out loud.”

/

The women spend the rest of the day researching and talking through what Alex wants to do.

Scrolling down a webpage, Sam says, “National City has a _ton_ of AA meetings. Some are even specifically for the LGBT community."

“Are there, uh, any today?”

Sam reaches the Thursday portion of meeting list and it takes up nearly her entire screen, top to bottom.

“That’s a ‘yes,’” Sam says. “Do you want to go to one?”

Alex rests her head on Sam’s shoulder and Sam feels her shrug against her. “Might as well, right? If I’m gonna do this, I wanna try to do it right.”

“You are strong as hell, Alex Danvers.”

“No,” Alex says. “Just tired.”

“Don’t do that,” Sam says gently.

“It’s true,” Alex says. “I’m _exhausted_.”

“You can be both things,” Sam points out, nudging Alex.

Alex turns her head and presses her lips against the bare skin where Sam’s t-shirt has slipped off her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Sam turns and Alex is already ready for her. Their lips connect and Alex pushes the laptop from Sam’s lapand replaces it with her own body. She frames Sam’s cheeks with her hands and kisses her hard and deep. Sam’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling Alex further into her body. Sam’s hands and lips are grounding, anchoring, and Alex busies herself with pressing her lips and dragging her tongue against every inch of Sam's skin that she possibly can.

“Alex,” Sam says, trying to get the woman’s attention. Alex hums before pulling on Sam’s earlobe with her teeth. Sam gasps, “Alex,” before taking Alex’s face in her hands again. She kisses Alex, softer now, and she feels Alex melt into her.

“Let me take care of you,” Sam says against Alex’s lips.

/

“Is anyone here for the first time?” asks the man perched on the windowsill.

Alex is sitting in a small conference room within a church around the corner from her apartment and she can’t remember the last time she was so anxious. Sam had offered to come in with her, but Alex had declined; she had to do this part on her own. Alex had walked into the room exactly fifteen minutes early and had taken the first seat on which her eyes fell. There are tables pushed into a large square and black plastic chairs line both the table and the room’s outer wall.On the table in front of her sat a laminated, parchment-colored piece of paper that, in large, red calligraphy, reads, “Keep It Simple.”

In the time the passed until the meeting began, the others in the room were talking and laughing and greeting one another with the kind of jovial intimacy that only time, trust, and confession can bring to a relationship while Alex stared at her phone, her conversation with Sam open on her screen, and listened to the chatter. She found she couldn’t zero in on a single voice, that she couldn’t separate one noise from another so instead, Alex passed the time by keeping her eyes on the last message Sam had sent her:

“Just take it all in,” with a red heart punctuating either end of the phrase.

 _Right_ , Alex thinks. _Be_ present.

And it’s that thought that brings Alex back to the question that’d been posed. She suspects that it’s merely a formality — that the man already knows the answer to his inquiry — because before Alex is even able to fully raise her trembling hand, at least half of the two dozen pairs of eyes in the room are already on her.

The man who’d spoken regards Alex with soft, kind eyes before saying, “Welcome to the largest organization in the world that no one ever wanted to be a part of.”

The entire room offers a laugh and Alex tries to follow suit, but only manages a shaky smile.

“Any housekeeping?” he asks.

A man sitting three seats to Alex’s right raises his hand. With his silver hair and matching goatee, Dave looks to be in his sixties and he, like the man who had spoken before, looks kind.

“Dan, alcoholic.”

“Hi Dan,” everyone says in unison.

“Here at the Thursday night Healthy Choices meeting,” Dan starts, sounding incredibly rehearsed, “we have a special way of celebrating early sobriety with a chip and optional hug. Is there anybody celebrating twenty-four hours up to thirty days of sobriety?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex says, raising her hand again. Dan nods at her as he pulls something silver from a plastic box in front of him. He’s pushing himself to his feet, so Alex follows suit and stutters, “I’m Alex. I’m an — an alcoholic.”

Her throat gets tight on the last word while something like relief also washes over her and the room echoes, “Hi Alex,” Dan holds out a small, silver coin to Alex. She takes it, noting that the cool metal is the first sensation she’s been able to feel since she left Sam’s house, and Dan opens his arms to her. She feels silly, hugging a stranger, but she also feels tethered. Before letting Alex go, Dan pats her on the back and says, voice low, “Congratulations, kid.”

The meeting continues on, with the leader of the night’s meeting reading off the introductory information and then starting to read through the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Alex is handed the numbered list and reads the eighth step aloud, not absorbing a single word of it. When the leader asks the group for two topics of discussion, there’s a little murmuring until the man on the windowsill pipes in, two fingers raised skyward to get the attention of the room.

“I’m Bill Morton and I’m an alcoholic.” Alex is too taken off-guard by the man announcing his last name to join into the chorus of “Hi Bill.” He continues, looking over to Alex, “I’ve always been told that the newcomer is the most important person in the room, so I’ll offer Step One as a topic. Thanks.”

“Thanks, Bill,” those in the room say.

Alex remembers the cool metal in the hand and opens her clenched fist. The face-up side has a thick triangle and within that triangle is a raised, textured circle, on which a smooth “24” lies. Squeezed beneath that circle is the word HOURS in far thinner font and arcing over the triangle reads TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE. She runs her thumb over the face of the coin and feels its ridges and valleys; a warmth seems to spread out from Alex’s chest.

/

The meeting closes with everyone standing in (roughly) a circle, holding hands, and reciting the Serenity Prayer. Alex can’t recall the words and she doesn’t trust herself to speak anyway, so she just holds the hands of the people who sat on either side of her a little too tightly.

When the prayer closes, the entire room says in unison, “Keep coming back.”

Alex hardly has time to pull her leather jacket — her armor — back on before a woman who looks about her mother’s age approaches her. She has short-cropped, curly brown hair and a full smile.

She holds out her hand to Alex and says, “Hi sweetie, I’m Mary.”

Alex shakes her hand and says, “Hi,” voice small.

“This your first meeting?” Alex nods in response. “I thought so. Me and the gals put this together for you.”

Mary pulls her hand from Alex’s and replaces it with a small booklet. It’s long and skinny — about the size of Alex’s hand — and relatively thick. Before Alex has a chance to flip through it, Mary continues.

“It’s a schedule of all the meetings in our district, so you can always find one when you need it. If you look on the inside cover, we all put our cell phone numbers in there, in case you need anyone to talk to. Call anytime — day or night. You’re not alone in this, Alex.”

Alex turns the front page over and, sure enough, there’s a list of names and numbers that fill three-quarters of the page. Alex looks back up, overwhelmed, and when she tries to say “Thank you,” she starts crying.

“Oh, honey,” Mary says, pulling Alex into a hug.

Alex tries to laugh it off, feeling embarrassed, and Mary releases her from the hug but keeps her at arms-length, holding Alex by her biceps.

“There’s gonna be a lot of that,” she says. “The crying, I mean, but it’s good for you. We have a women’s meeting on Sunday; I hope I’ll see you there. One day at a time, Alex.”

Mary smiles one last time and squeezes Alex’s arms before passing the younger woman and leaving the conference room. There are a flurry of other people around Alex and she’d feel claustrophobic if they weren’t all sending her gentle nods and smiles as she passes them to leave.

Alex opens the front door of the church and steps outside. It’s raining, though the sun is still shining, and there are a few people from the meeting standing under the awning smoking cigarettes. Alex hears laughter to her left and when she looks over, she sees Ruby, holding an umbrella, running away from her mom, who’s chasing her across the lawn, getting soaked by the rain in the process.

Alex steps out from under the awning and into the rain. Sam catches sight of her and changes her trajectory so that she’s jogging toward Alex, radiant smile on her face. When she reaches her, she scoops her up in a hug and Alex feels the warmth of Sam’s body and the falling rain encompass her. As Sam sets her back on her feet, Ruby joins them and shares the umbrella.

One day down — a lifetime to go.


	3. i won't let you down | i will not give you up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has brief interlude with the Arias girls.

After Alex finally pulls Sam and Ruby toward the former’s SUV, she remembers that life isn’t a rom-com. That one meeting and one day of sobriety doesn’t rid her of the desire to drink.

She buckles her seatbelt in the passenger seat of Sam’s car and experiences her first silent moment of the day. Well, nearly silent. More accurately, it’s the first time in the last twenty-four hours that everyone around Alex hasn’t had their attention solely focused on her, as Sam is rustling in her purse for something while Ruby tells her about her school day. The Arias girls fall into casual conversation and Alex just falls silent.

Alex’s brain takes advantage of this, of the lapse in attention, and returns to it’s regular programming, which consists of Alex’s thoughts chasing one another round and round in intricate patterns, colliding with one another every so often. It puts her into this void, this limbo, this liminal space where she’s numbed. It happens in a way that allows her to be conscious of where she physically is, but doesn’t allow her to control any of it, almost as if she’s watching herself from outside of her body.

And if it wasn’t for the events of the last day or so, Alex could let herself pretend that she doesn’t know who — or what, rather — is holding the reins.

But knowing it and acknowledging it doesn’t allow Alex to shake it off.

On the contrary, that pulls her further into the vortex, and Alex finds herself thinking about the whiskey she has at Sam’s, the scotch she has at Kara’s, the bourbon in the top drawer of her desk at the DEO (for celebrations and emergencies), and the various forms of alcohol stored throughout her own apartment. If she’s honest, all Alex can think about is having a drink. The entire process of it. Small talk with Brian, the cashier at Empire Liquor. Choosing a glass. The feeling of shucking off her work clothes. The sound of ice cubes clinking against glass and one another. Uncapping a bottle. Pouring, with a heavy, _heavy_ hand. The warmth that spreads out from her stomach to her extremities. The quiet that follows.

Alex has no earthly idea about how she intends to give all of that up.

Long fingers squeeze above Alex’s knee and she blinks her eyes back into focus. Dazed, she looks to her left.

Sam tilts Alex’s chin up and asks, “Where’d you go?”

Alex smiles, lips tight, and shakes her head.

“I’m right here.”

Each woman leans toward the other until their foreheads touch.

“Okay,” Sam says. “Ruby’s inside. Wanna go have a chat?”

“Might as well get it over with,” Alex says, voice so low Sam can hardly hear her.

“Hey,” Sam says, pulling back from Alex. “I am staunchly Team Alex; Ruby will be too. She loves you, Al.”

/

Alex, Sam, and Ruby are sat at the dining room table, Ruby at the head of the table with Sam and Alex each at a seat adjacent to her. Ruby is turning her head back and forth from her mom to Alex and back again, waiting for someone to say something. It’s worrying her, the way her mom’s eyes look so sad, the way she can’t take her sad eyes off of Alex, and the way that Alex seems to be struggling to start whatever conversation this is.

Finally, Alex spits out, “I’m an alcoholic.”

After a few seconds of silence, Sam asks, “Do you… know what that means?”

Ruby squints a little and shrugs.

“Sort of?”

“It means that I have a problem with drinking,” Alex says. “I can’t safely drink alcohol. I’ve been this way for a long time, and I’m trying to make a change.”

“Are you mad that I said something about it yesterday?”

Alex feels a pain in her chest and reaches for one of Ruby’s hands.

“No, hey. Absolutely not, Roo. I was upset, but not with you. I was upset with _myself_. I _am_ upset with myself.”

“But this isn’t something that a person always has control over,” Sam cuts in, her hands fluorishing in the air. “Alcoholism — well, addiction in general — is a disease, but it’s one that can be treated.”

“So the reason I went to that church tonight?” Ruby nods at her. “They hold Alcoholics Anonymous meetings there. It’s a place I can go for support and - and - and to talk and to try to get better with other people who want the same thing for themselves.”

“I did a little research,” Sam says, eyes flitting over to Alex briefly, “and there are meetings we can go to, too, if we want. Those meetings can help the people who love an alcoholic to understand better and to get their own support, if they need it.”

“Do you, um, have questions?” Alex asks.

Ruby sits in silence for a few thoughtful moment before saying, “Are you… okay?”

The question makes Alex well up with tears — _again_ — and she scoots her chair so that she can pull Ruby into a hug. Ruby holds tight to Alex, to this woman she _so_ adores and looks up to, and she thinks she hears her mom sniffling.

When Alex pulls back, she asks, “Do you want to know the truth?”

“Duh,” Ruby says.

“I’m scared,” Alex says, voice wavering. “I’m scared and I’m sad and I feel a little lost. I _really_ want to be having a drink right now, rather than have this conversation with anyone.”

Alex wishes she could make her voice lighter, but her heart and body are currently too heavy, too leaden, to have the energy for such an endeavor.

“And it’s going to be a lot of work and it’s gonna _suck_ some days, but this is something I’ve needed to face for a long time and part of me is excited to finally do it.”

“You should get to love yourself as much as we love you,” Ruby says, matter-of-factly.

Alex takes Ruby’s hand again but turns her face away, willing herself not to cry in front of the girl. After accurately assessing that Alex needs a moment, Sam cuts in again.

“Right now, it’s up to you and me to be here for Alex, but it’s also okay if there are parts of this that are upsetting or confusing or overwhelming for you. If that happens, we’ve gotta talk about it. That’s what family is for, right?”

“Right,” Ruby says, and Alex turns back to her girls.

“The other thing about this, Roo,” Alex starts, “is that I’m taking my time sharing it with people. So you and your mom know, but that’s it so far.”

“Kara doesn’t know?”

“No, I mean, it all just happened so fast that — I don’t know.”

“There’s no rush, though,” Sam chimes in. “Alex is going to tell people as she feels ready.”

/

They eat dinner in relative silence, with Ruby asking each of them questions here and there. When their plates are cleared and Alex is helping Sam clean up, Ruby excuses herself to watch tv in her room. Sam watches as Alex mechanically washes dishes, receding back inside herself, like she had during the car ride home. Sam isn’t unfamiliar with Alex’s periods of quiet; in fact, she’s come to understand them quite well.

Or at least, she _thought_ she did.

Usually when Alex zones out, she’s solving something in her head. She’s working through every combination of variables she has available to her, trying to identify what additional variables she needs to get to the bottom of something. But this? This feels different, and Sam won’t let Alex drown in her own thoughts.

She sidles up behind Alex and snakes her arms around her girlfriend’s waist before resting her chin on Alex’s shoulder. In a moment of surprise, Alex’s body tenses up, but Sam drops a kiss onto the curve of Alex’s neck and Alex melts into her.

“I’m here,” Alex says.

“You weren’t, for a second,” Sam says, voice soft and far from accusing.

Alex’s hands fall on top of Sam’s, which are linked over the top of Alex’s jeans.

“I feel like I should get out of your hair,” Alex says, but makes no attempt to move from Sam’s arms.

“You’re not ‘ _in my hair_.' I always want you with me,” Sam says. A pause. “That sounds needy, doesn’t it?”

Alex breathes out a laugh and turns in Sam’s arms, leaning against the counter behind her. Sam stays in Alex’s space, letting Alex pull her even closer by her cheeks. Alex’s touch is gentle — lazy, almost — as she moves her fingers over Sam’s cheekbones, through her hair.

She links her fingers at the nape of Sam’s neck and says, “I don’t like relying on other people. It makes me feel… _weak_ , and —”

“You aren’t weak, Alex.”

Alex kisses her softly before saying, “Let me finish.”

Sam nods, squeezing at Alex’s waist.

“Ever since Kara came into my life, I’ve been the protector. The, the — I don’t know — the care-taker. I’ve taken on that role in _every aspect_ of my life and I’m _good_ at it. I think.”

Alex shakes her head, trying to find the words she wants, and Sam just keeps her eyes locked on Alex’s.

“It’s hard for me to give up that control — _really_ fucking hard, Sam — but I need you, and if I’m going to give up some of that control to anyone, it’s going to be you. I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re needy, I’m needy.”

“Is this our version of “if you’re a bird, I’m a bird?’” Sam asks, smiling.

Alex laughs for the first time since they got back to Sam’s house and Sam internally celebrates the victory.

“I _knew_ I shouldn’t have told you my guilty pleasure movie is _The Notebook_ ,” Alex says, playfully pushing at Sam’s shoulders.

Sam takes the opportunity to kiss her and she can feel the smile still on Alex’s lips as she does so.

“But seriously,” Sam says against Alex’s mouth, “thank you for trusting me with this.”

“I… couldn’t do this without you.”

Sam pulls back to look Alex in the eye and says, steadfast, “Yes you could.”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Alex says, shrugging, “but I’m glad I don’t have to.”

/

“Can we… take another day off work?” Alex asks later on.

They’re both on the couch, Sam with her feet up on the table and Alex with her head in Sam’s lap. Sam has been carding her fingers through Alex’s hair while they watch a _Fixer Upper_ marathon.

“I just,” Alex says, fidgeting a little. “I think making this a long weekend would be good for me and I… don’t want to do it alone. I mean, I know it’s my responsibility to figure out how to stay sober and deal with my stuff and be an adult and actually _stay sober_ but I feel, uh, really fragile?”

“Long weekend it is,” Sam says. “And speaking of staying sober, you finished your first entire day of sobriety. How’s it feel?”

“Like I want a drink,” Alex says, voice flat. She turns onto her back in Sam’s lap. “It’s, like, the only thing I can think about.”

“Is that why you keep disappearing?”

Alex nods and Sam rubs her thumb over Alex’s bottom lip.

“It just, it takes over my whole brain — it always has, but now, knowing I can’t drink again anytime _ever_? It’s put my dysfunctional defense system on DEFCON 1 and — I don’t know — I wish I could put it into words that make _sense_ but I just — I can’t make sense of my thoughts right now.”

“Take your time,” Sam says soothingly and with certainty. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	4. and i'll keep this world from draggin' me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty quickly, Alex feels her buzz building as she speeds down a long, narrow, and familiar street. Alex notes that the street is also empty, but for the car she’s driving, so she doesn’t worry much about the fact that her vision begins to get shoddy and that it becomes increasingly difficult for Alex to keep the car in the appropriate lane.  
> "I should just crash," she thinks to herself.  
> The thought should scare her — and at one time, it might have — but the road is long and Alex is tired. 
> 
> \--
> 
> alex needs a plan and her fam.

Alex is driving in an unfamiliar SUV when she reaches into the brown paper bag on the passenger seat of her car. She rustles around in it until she finds purchase on the item for which she’s looking: a bottle of whiskey.

_Finally_.

Alex pops the cap off the bottle with her thumb and it disappears into her periphery, somewhere on the floorspace of the car. The cap is quickly forgotten, however, because Alex takes a deep swig of lukewarm whiskey. And then another. And then _another_.

Pretty quickly, Alex feels her buzz building as she speeds down a long, narrow, and familiar street. Alex notes that the street is also empty, but for the car she’s driving, so she doesn’t worry much about the fact that her vision begins to get shoddy and that it becomes increasingly difficult for Alex to keep the car in the appropriate lane.

_I should just crash_ , she thinks to herself.  _I could._

The thought should scare her — and at one time, it might have — but the road is long and Alex is _tired._

Then, suddenly, from her right side, a school bus squeals onto the road, just parallel to her. Alex looks to her right and then — is that — there’s Olivia Pope, in her all-white ensemble, driving the apparently empty bus. Olivia steps on the gas and the bus gains speed, rocketing away from Alex.

Something tells her she has to catch that bus, so Alex gives chase, watching as Olivia Pope eyes her in the side-view mirror. Alex swerves left and right, trying to pass the bus, trying to regain control of both her car and the road on which she’s driving.

Olivia, with the upper hand, slams on the brakes and Alex, at top speed, swerves out of the way, only for the car she’s in to barrel roll, again and again.

It happens in slow motion. The SUV tumbles and flips on the road and suddenly Alex is crashing through glass, soaring through the air. She opens her mouth to scream but —

“Fuck,” Alex gasps.

She wakes in a cold sweat, heart beating quickly and rather than feeling comforted by the soft blanket she’s under and the arm that Sam has slung over her waist like she normally would, Alex feels suffocated. She slips out of Sam’s bed and pads to the bathroom.

Leaning over the sink, Alex mumbles aloud, “I have _got_ to stop watching _Scandal_ before bed.”

Alex flips on the tap and splashes cold water on her face. After patting her cheeks dry with a towel, she returns to the bedroom and slides back into the empty space she’d left in Sam’s bed. She lies down, face to face with Sam, who’s breathing softly and evenly, face serene in her sleep. Alex can’t help herself; she reaches out and traces her pointer finger lightly over the bridge of Sam’s nose, the curve of her jaw, the arch of her brow.

Sam rouses and mumbles something that Alex can’t quite make out, so she leans forward and presses her lips to Sam’s forehead. She hums in response and scoots her body closer to Alex, tangling their legs together. Alex watches as Sam blinks her eyes open, as a lazy smile takes over her girlfriend’s lips.

“Why’re you up?” Sam asks, voice rough.

“Weird dream,” Alex tells her, brushing stray strands of hair behind Sam’s ear.

“W’nna talk about it?”

Alex takes a deep breath in through her nose, as if about to speak, but shakes her head and places three staccato kisses on Sam’s lips.

“Sleep, love.”

/

Alex doesn’t remember falling back to sleep, but the next thing she registers is Sam’s lips on her neck. Alex hums and she feels Sam smile against her before kissing her way up to Alex’s mouth. Before Alex has a chance to open her eyes, she feels Sam’s weight settle on her lap and, when Alex’s hands move to Sam’s waist, only then does she realize that Sam is naked. When Alex’s eyes pop open, she gasps and Sam breaks their kiss to laugh.

“That got your attention, hm?”

“You always do,” Alex says, while Sam’s hands creep underneath Sam’s D.A.R.E. t-shirt that Alex is wearing. “It’s unfair, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam asks, sliding her hands up Alex’s sides and dipping her head back down to Alex’s neck.

“Mm-hm,” Alex hums. “Even when — wait, is Rube home?”

Sam sits fully upright, her hands and lips leaving Alex’s skin. She’s still straddling her lap, and Alex sits up to follow her.

“Alex. Angel. Darling,” Sam says with a smile, cupping Alex’s face in her hands. “I am fully naked and on top of you with the bedroom door wide open. You have an IQ of 153; you tell me.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “Right.”

Alex kisses Sam, hard and fast, before flipping her onto her back.

/

The pair takes Friday slowly. The first half of the day is spent in bed and by the time they manage to keep their hands off each other for long enough to shower and eat, it’s nearing 2:00pm. Before Sam leaves to pick up Ruby from school, she and Alex attempt to get organized, to talk out what Alex needs.

“So we, just — I need a plan, I think.”

Sam stands up and says, “If you clear off the table, I’ll grab supplies.”

“Wait, huh?”

Sam circles the table to Alex’s side, leans down, and kisses her.

“I know we always roll our eyes at Amy’s binders but I think it could come in handy here.”

“We’re gonna Santiago my alcoholism?” Alex asks with a smile.

“Yep,” Sam says. “Highlighters, dividers, and all.”

Within a few minutes, Alex and Sam are sitting side by side, materials spread out across the dining room table. Sam turns to Alex.

“Where do we start?”

“You’re asking me?” Alex asks, laughing. “If I knew, it wouldn’t have taken me ten years to say the word ‘alcoholic’ out loud.”

Sam puts her left hand on Alex’s thigh.

“Sorry,” Sam says, scrunching her nose.

Alex slips her right hand into Sam’s and says, “Nothing to be sorry for,” and kisses Sam swiftly.

“Why don’t we start with the short-term. The _shortest_ term. This weekend.”

Sam picks up a black permanent marker, pulls off its cap with her teeth, and lets it fall to the table as she reaches for a piece of loose-leaf paper. The cap bounces off the wood a few times before falling to the floor between Alex and Sam’s chairs but Sam just holds tighter to Alex with her free hand.

“Okay,” Sam starts, “if you were to make a goal for the weekend, what would it be?”

“Don’t drink,” Alex says, not missing a beat.

Sam writes out the header “THREE-DAY PLAN” in her beautiful script and she follows it with “Goal: don’t drink” on the first line.

As she finishes writing the last word, Sam says, “I’m writing all this out for you, by the way. Your handwriting is atrocious.”

Alex falls a little further.

As they talk and write and highlight and hole-punch for the next two hours, Alex thinks some weight lifts from her shoulders. She also decides that she has to spend some time on her own.

“I have to live with me for…well, forever, in theory, so I need to start figuring out how to do that without alcohol.”

“Okay,” Sam nods, but her eyes widen and fill with concern.

“It’s no different than when I’d go to my apartment any other night,” Alex says, though she’s not sure if she’s trying to convince Sam or herself. “Plus,” she continues, taking the binder from Sam’s hands, “we have all these contingency plans in place if things get… rough.”

/

They leave Sam’s house at the same time, though their destinations are different. Alex opens Sam’s car door for her and they part with a kiss.

Sam says, “Be careful,” before patting Alex on the ass as she slips by Sam.

Alex rounds the back of Sam’s car and settles onto her motorcycle, pulling on her helmet as she watches Sam back out of her driveway and wave as she heads off down the road and out of sight. Alex takes a deep breath and revs up her bike and peels off in the opposite direction, headed toward an AA meeting. She and Sam had found another one nearby — in fact, Sam made a draft calendar of meetings Alex could feasibly attend every day, should she want or need to.

When she pulls up to the recreation center at which the meeting is hosted, Alex pulls her phone from her jacket pocket and types out a message to J’onn. She might not be ready to fill Kara in yet, but _someone_ at the DEO should be aware. And if she’s honest with herself, Alex needs a dad right now and J’onn has been a faithful father figure since the night he bailed her out of jail and changed her life.

He answers almost immediately with a text that says, “Of course. I can meet you at your place at 6.”

/

When Alex enters her building, her stomach is in knots and by the time she actually gets inside her apartment, she feels positively sick. She used to consider her apartment her safe place — her sanctuary — but now that’s tainted. In fact, when she looks back, it’s been more of a prison, helping to isolate her from life and emotion and reality. Alex looks around the apartment, leaned back against the front door, and she can almost picture each time she’s had a drink within these walls. Countless copies of Alex with various bottles and glasses and steins fill the apartment, overlapping and intersecting one another so densely that Alex loses herself in the image.

That’s always been the problem, Alex realizes. She’s always been lost. Lost within herself, lost out in the world. Just… _lost_.

Autopilot takes over and Alex finds herself beelining to her liquor cabinet. When she pulls it open, it’s empty, but for one half-full bottle of her favorite whiskey. There’s a post-it note stuck to it that Alex peels off with her thumb and pointer finger.

“A,” it starts. “Tossed all the unnecessary temptation I could find, except for this bottle. Thought you should do the final honors when you’re ready.”

Sam signed the bottom of the note with her name and some hearts and after Alex reads over the note three more times, she bursts into tears.

She holds the bottle in her hand for what feels like an eternity before she unscrews the cap and holds the opening under her nose. Alex takes a deep breath in and the harsh, smoky scent bombards her senses. Her mouth waters and she gets a head-rush. The physical reaction throws her, and Alex forces herself to set the bottle back down on the counter. After putting the cap back on, she takes three deliberate steps backward, away from the bottle, a few tears still escaping down her cheeks.

Alex slips her phone out of her jacket pocket to text Sam and there’s already a message from her. She opens the message and it’s a selfie of Sam and Ruby with exaggerated frowns on their faces and the message beneath it says “Miss you already.”

Alex’s chest warms as she types out, “miss you more,” and takes a selfie to attach.

“btw,” she adds, “thank you for clearing out my cabinets. i hadn’t even thought of that”

Sam sends back a single heart.

Alex also decides that this would be a good time to finally answer the flurry of texts and phone calls she’s gotten (and ignored) from Kara over the last day or so. She knows if she calls her sister — if Kara can hear her voice — that she’ll see right through her. She’ll _know_ something is up and Alex just — she isn’t ready, because of all the people in the world, Kara is the person Alex is the most afraid of disappointing.

So instead of calling her, Alex shoots her a text that says, “sorry i’ve been MIA! i’m not gonna make it to dolly’s tonight. have a drink for me. love u”

Just then, there’s three swift and solid knocks at her door. The sick feeling overtakes Alex once more and she breathes in through her nose. After taking the few steps back to her door, she pulls it open and there’s J’onn in his trademark black slacks and polo shirt.

“Alex,” J’onn says. He smiles widely at her and Alex can tell that it’s genuine by the way his ears wiggle when he does it.

“Hi,” she says, standing aside and holding the door open. She holds her free arm out and says, “Come in, please.”

Alex watches J’onn as he appraises her and then the room. His eyes linger on the bottle of whiskey for a moment too long and Alex feels a pang in her chest.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alex says. “I just — I really need to talk to you.”

“Are you feeling alright? It isn’t like you to take a day off; normally Kara and I have to coerce you into taking your allotted vacation time every year.”

J’onn keeps his voice light, but his lips are pursed, his brow is furrowed, and Alex can tell that he’s concerned. He sits on Alex’s couch and leans forward, elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped.

Alex sits in the chair adjacent from J’onn and pulls her legs up underneath her.

“Can I be… _honest_ with you?”

“Certainly.”

“I’m actually very not okay, and saying that out loud — admitting it — makes me _very_ uncomfortable. I — do you remember when we first met?”

J’onn smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and he says, “I’ll never forget it.”

“You saved me that night, in a lot of ways. I had been spiraling for a long time and I was wasting my potential. You helped me believe that I was special, that I was _worth_ something.”

“You _are_ , Alex.”

“That’s the problem,” Alex says, feeling her throat tighten. “Or, well, the problem is that I don’t feel that way about myself. I’ve never felt like I’m _enough_ , and I’ve compensated for that with alcohol. I’m just starting to get a handle on what it all means for me, but it’s important for you to know that I’m an alcoholic and that I’m sober now. Or trying to be. It’s only day two, so.”

J’onn puts a hand over his eyes and is quiet for a few moments before he looks back up at Alex, searching her face.

He says, “Alex, I have lived in this universe for over three-hundred years and in that time I have met some remarkable beings, but none more so than you.”

The earnest intensity in J’onn’s eyes overwhelms Alex and she looks down at the arm of the chair, where she’s picking at a ripped seam.

“You have always exhibited an admirable inner strength but this is —” J’onn says, shaking his head. “I am so _proud_ of you, Alex, for making what must have been a difficult decision.”

Alex breaks and covers her mouth in an attempt to quell the need to cry aloud.

“If there is anything I can do to lighten this for you, just say the word. You are family, Alex.”

J’onn’s voice is strained and when Alex looks back up, his eyes are shimmering. Without a moment of thought, Alex moves to sit beside J’onn and engulfs him in a hug, her head leaned against his shoulder. He puts his arm around her shoulder, pulls her further into his side, and lets her talk for hours, uninterrupted.

/

The next morning, the bottle of whiskey is still sitting on the counter, right where Alex left it. She knew it would be, but small part of her had hoped that an unseen force would take it out of sight for her. Alex moves about her kitchen to make a quick breakfast and she tries to avert her eyes from the bottle at every turn, but it’s like a beacon, glowing and pulsing in her consciousness. It’s as if there’s an energy field emanating from it that weakens everything — every _one_ — in its range and as Alex jabs at her scrambled eggs, she takes stock of the fact that she’s its only target and, somehow, that strengthens its hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact the drinking dream alex had is based on part of the many i’ve had since i quit drinking great thx love u


	5. i've been twisting to the sun i needed to replace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex starts to feel, Sam continues to be The Best, and Kara has a theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what i didn't proofread this is anyone surprised 
> 
> also, happy pride month (almost)!!!!!!!!

 

The next few weeks pass swiftly because of a new threat in National City that has Alex and her DEO compatriots scrambling for leads and plans and action. Almost every night, a colleague asks Ale to join them at Dolly’s or Wild Cards or The Tipsy Moose and every time, Alex half-heartedly turns them down, kindly and with one flimsy excuse or another.

The thing is she _wants_ to go. She wants to join them, but joining them means being around alcohol and right now, Alex can’t even stand the thought of alcohol, let alone the sight or smell of it. If she goes out with them and manages to stick to water, they’ll all be confused — Alex has kind of a reputation as the DEO’s drinking champion — and if she _does_ drink, she’ll be putting herself in danger, letting herself down. Plus, Kara still doesn’t even know about Alex’s sobriety. It’s just — all in all, saying, “no thanks” and spending time with Sam and Ruby is easier. It’s safer.

Tonight, though, Alex opts for a meeting before retiring to sam’s for the night. There are a few different meetings at which Alex has gotten comfortable but this one — St. Matthew’s, the meeting she attended that first day — has become her home location. Alex even has a sponsor now, an older woman named Maeve, who checks in on her, meets her out for coffee when she’s having a particularly rough day, and gives her various assignments.

The readings Maeve suggests and assigns are interesting; Alex has been reading book chapters and scholarly articles about various aspects of alcoholism, recovery, and self-love and from an academic standpoint, Alex _loves_ it. She’s always loved learning and this is no different, but the way Alex can see herself reflected in each of the pages she reads is… well, a lot.

It’s unsettling, like the authors have been inside her head. It’s reassuring, knowing she’s not alone. It’s frustrating, having all this information and still craving — _aching_ for — a drink or six. It’s overwhelming, feeling her feelings for the first time in years. It’s terrifying, knowing she’ll have to unpack and explore those feelings if she hopes to ever get better.

But in spite of that, Alex reads everything Maeve gives her, scribbling notes in the margins, highlighting or underlining passages that give her insight about herself or her disease. She also copies her notes and the highlighted sections into the binder Sam helped put together because Alex Danvers is nothing short of thorough.

Sam, for her part, reads most of what Maeve sends Alex off with as well, on top of doing research of her own.

Alex feels like her alcoholism has become a third party in this relationship and when she thinks about that, guilt creeps in. Because Sam is wonderful — incredible, really — and she deserves someone better. Someone with less baggage. Someone less burdensome.

And because Alex is trying to get better at being honest about her feelings, she talks about it at St. Matt’s and Martin, who’s running the night’s meeting, opens the group to discussion.

“I worried about the same thing, at the start,” Jane, a woman about Alex’s age says. “I was always worried about being too much for someone to love, even without the added bonus of being a recovering alcoholic, but I’ve come to realize that everyone has their stuff, and the right person will stick around for yours.”

“It’s like we say,” Maeve starts, “take on what you can right now and give the rest over to your higher power; this is part of that. Know why?”

Alex shakes her head.

“At the end of the day, what she can or can’t handle isn’t for you to decide. It’s her call, and you have to be open to discussing that with her. This is something you can’t control or change, and every one of us assholes has a _really_ difficult time loosening our grip and adjusting our expectations.”

A chuckle ripples through the room.

“And Alex,” Maeve continues, “it’s okay to let someone take care of you. You aren’t weak for wanting someone on your team the way he is. No recovering addict is an island.”

/

When Alex gets to Sam’s that night, she intends to bring it up immediately, but then Sam greets her at the door with an enthusiastic kiss and it slips her mind.

That is, until they’re curled up in bed.

Sam has fallen asleep, tucked into Alex’s side and with her head resting on Alex’s chest, and Alex is exhausted, but kept awake by her swirling thoughts.

This, Alex realizes, is part of why she drank so much; alcohol always made her feel more, just, _calm_. Without it, her mind is a hurricane.

And hurricanes destroy, without prejudice or care.

Alex would rather be alone than let herself take Sam and Ruby down with her.

“Alex?” Sam asks and Alex flinches in surprise and says, “Jesus _Christ_.”

“Please, call me Sam,” she says without missing a beat. Then she presses on. “I didn’t want to hound you, but will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Who says something’s wrong?”

Sam lifts her head and her expression is somewhere between amused and incredulous.

She gently rakes her fingers through Alex’s hair and says, “You’re doing that thing where you silently brood and retreat into yourself, all while pretending that everything is peachy keen.”

“Peachy keen?” Alex repeats with a tired smile.

Sam nudges at her.

“You know what I mean, jellybean.”

“ _Tech_ nically, I’m a les-bean—”

“ _Alex_ ,” Sam says, smile on her lips but eyes sober and serious.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just — I feel like you’ll be mad if I tell you.”

“Hmm,” Sam hums. “Did you murder an innocent elderly woman and frame a toddler for it? Or steal someone’s identity? Or run down pedestrians Grand Theft Auto style? Or kick a cat?”

“No,” Alex says, and then, “Is the bar that low?”

Sam kisses her and says, “I won’t be mad; tell me.”

Alex lets out a heavy sigh.

“I’m afraid that all of this alcoholism… _stuff_ is too much and, like, you didn’t sign up for this and I don’t want for you to end up feeling stuck in this situation and — I don’t know, Sam. I just feel like too much and not enough all at once.”

Alex feels herself well up and she looks away from Sam in favor of focusing on the ceiling. Sam softens further into Alex and cups her cheek.

She says, “I need you to look at me and to listen, okay? Please?”

Alex obliges and Sam runs her thumb over the curve of Alex’s cheek. Steadfastly, Sam continues.

“I love you, Alex Danvers. Did you know that? I love you, and I hate knowing that you’re in pain that I can take a magic eraser to, but you’re not a burden. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

Alex nods quickly and a tear spills down her cheek.

“You aren’t. You’re the furthest thing from a burden, okay? Whatever the exact opposite of a burden is, that’s what you are. You are — _God_ , Alex. You are kind and loving a smart and giving. You’re my family, okay? You, Ruby, me, Kara, Lena? We’re family. I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, Alex.”

Alex, speaking between gasping breaths and sobs muffled by the back of her hand, says, “I don’t — know — how to — let anyone — take care of me.”

Alex twists her fingers into the front of Sam’s sleep shirt and loses all control. As Alex crumbles, Sam rolls onto her back, pulling Alex on top of her as she shifts and Alex follows, burrowing her into the crook of Sam’s neck.

“I’ll teach you,” Sam says, feeling the wetness of Alex’s tears pool on her skin. “I’ll teach you.”

/

[Later, when Alex’s breath evens out and her tears dry, she kisses Sam deeply, whispers “I love _you_ ” against her lips, and Alex swears she can feel Sam’s heart beat harder against her body.]

/

“Alex… I figured it out.”

They’re in the gym at the DEO taking a break from sparring when Kara says it. Exercising with the kryptonite emitters on always winds Kara but there’s an edge to her voice that cuts through her breathlessness that sets off alarm bells in Alex’s head. Alex tosses Kara a spare water bottle, trying to conceal any show of anxiety.

“Figured what out?” Alex asks, drinking from her own bottle.

“Why you’ve been so… _distant_ lately.”

Alex’s heart pauses in her chest.

 _She knows,_ Alex thinks. _How on_ Earth _did she find out?_

Alex sits on the floor, back against the wall with her feet on the floor, and pulls her knees up to her chest. Kara is pacing the floor in front of her, water bottle in hand, brow creased, and guilt flushes through Alex. Of _course_ Kara put two and two together; she’s her _sister_.

“Look, Kara, I should have told you — I know — but I—”

“No,” Kara says, voice positively cold, now. She stops in her tracks and faces Alex, glaring down at her. “You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

Wait. What?

“Done what?” Alex asks, genuinely confused.

Kara huffs out a sigh and says, “We’re not teenagers anymore and I’m not your dumb little sister, Alex. I know you, and this is _so_ unlike you. Sam _loves_ you — everyone can see that — and this is how you treat her?”

“Alright,” Alex says, putting down her water bottle. “I think we’re on different topics here. I don’t know what —”

“I saw you with her, Alex! That woman! And sure, she’s a silver fox but that’s no excuse to cheat on your girlfriend.”

Alex can’t help it; she bursts out laughing. Not just a giggle, either; Alex lets out a full, loud belly-laugh that quickly has her gasping for breath. The sound only infuriates Kara further.

“How can you be laughing? Who even are you?!”

Alex takes in a few long, deep breaths before she says, huge smile on her face, “I’m Alex, and I’m an alcoholic.”

Now it’s Kara’s turn to be confused. She sits down on the raised platform in the center of the room.

“You’re — what?”

Alex pulls herself closer to her sister with her feet and sits cross-legged in front of Kara.

“I’m an alcoholic, Kara. I’m in recovery.”

“Oh,” Kara says, voice unsure. She huffs again and says, “That _still_ doesn’t explain why you’re having an affair!”

“I’m not having an affair,” Alex says gently. “The woman you saw me with — the ‘silver fox?’ — her name is Maeve. She’s my AA sponsor, not my… mistress or whatever you thought she was.”

“She’s — you — but —” Kara stammers. “Can you say that again, but slower and with a lot more detail?”

Alex lays it all out for her sister, who sits quietly, listening intently, the entire time. Unlike Alex, Kara has never been adept in hiding her emotions, and Alex feels a pang in her chest each time Kara wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. When Alex finishes, she breaks and her sister holds her tight.

“Alex, I — your drinking always made me nervous but I could never put my finger on why. I’m _so_ sorry I never said anything.”

Alex shakes her head against Kara and sniffles.

“It wasn’t your responsibility to. Plus, if you _had_ said something, I would have gotten angry with you and lashed out or denied it and I would’ve been in the exact same place.”

“I’m _so_ proud of you. This is — this is _huge_ , Alex. How long has it been?”

Alex sits up and wipes her eyes. “Uh, like, 23 days?”

A smile takes over Kara’s lips and her eyes light up.

“You’re incredible.” Alex rolls her eyes. “No, seriously! You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Says the girl who can lift actual buildings.”

Kara tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Alex says, smiling so widely that her cheeks ache.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this is the most self-insert thing i’ve ever written but alex’s story and mine needed to be told, so. if you or a loved one are suffering from alcoholism or addiction, know that ily and that help and resources are plentiful.
> 
> anyway come chat at good-and-safe on tumblr


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